


In the Spirit of Honesty

by mcal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baby Harry, F/M, Hermione in the Marauder Era AU, Pining, Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban, marriage law, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-01 23:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcal/pseuds/mcal
Summary: Sirius never went to Azkaban. The Dark Lord was vanquished the night he murdered James and Lily Potter, and Harry Potter is now in the custody of his godfather, Sirius. He's too young to be so old... And on top of it all, the Ministry of Magic has enacted a Marriage Law in the spirit of equality.A Hermione-Grew-Up-In-The-Marauder-Era AU, Marriage Law Birthday present for msmerlin.





	In the Spirit of Honesty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/gifts).

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVELY LADY!!!! I hope you enjoy my humble attempt at a Sirimione Marriage Law!  
Alpha love and thanks LadyKenz347 and Frumpologist, because I was SO nervous writing Sirius. The encouragement, love and support writing this was so perfect and I couldn't have done this without either of you wonderful ladies.  
Beta gratitude to ravenslight <3 Thank you so much, friend.  
All remaining errors are mine.
> 
> I own no part of the Harry Potter Franchise.

* * *

Sirius always knew that whatever goodness he’d experienced in his school years, whatever joy, love, and sense of family and belonging he’d come to know from his time at Hogwarts, it would never last. 

  
He’d wanted it to. Hoped with all his heart that Gryffindor would be the House to truly accept him, to let him simply _ be _ , seeing as how the ‘Most Ancient and Noble’ House of Black never had any intention of doing so. He’d found brothers in James, Remus, and P— _ nope! _ Too soon… Months after… _ everything _, really, and it was still much too soon. But he’d had… brothers. More than one, at least. And they hadn’t been ashamed of him. 

And Minnie… well, not that he’d ever admit it to her, but she had been a second mother figure after James’ mum. 

It was all too good to last; he’d always known that in the deepest of crevices of his heart. This, of course, meant none of the events of the past few months should have come as any surprise: his mother’s Dark Lord was dead, and thank fuck for that, but at such a cost. A cost he’d have been more than happy to give his own life for. He was a Gryffindor through and through; he’d joined the bloody Auror department and signed on to Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix to ensure if this was to be won with blood, he’d be the one to make that ultimate sacrifice. 

He’d never wanted it to be paid by everyone else he loved most. Never dreamed Fate and all the Stars would be so cruel as to exact payment in the form of stripping his heart bare, tearing him down to the foundations of his soul, leaving him alone to muck about the pieces… 

A piercing cry shattered through the shell of despair and misery he’d once again allowed himself to attempt to hide away in. But reality had never been his friend, and there was a crying godson to attend to. 

He Apparated himself directly outside Harry’s room, permitting himself a few fortifying breaths before stealing across the threshold. Light from the hallway poured into the room, creating that paradoxical impression of the largest and darkest of shadows in the midst of illuminating golden hues. Harry was standing upright in his crib, fingers wrapped around two separate bars, giving him something to hold onto as he bounced, cried, and fussed for his freedom.

Or for two people who would never again be coming to answer his cries. 

“Hey now, Prongslette,” Sirius said, keeping his voice low and almost convincingly soothing. _ Almost _. Swallowing his sorrow and grief, he scooped Harry into his arms, breathing deep as Harry burrowed his face into Sirius’ neck. “What’s got you up tonight, hmm? Is this your way of telling me you’re too big for a crib; is that what all this is about?” 

Harry whimpered still, and Sirius turned with a flourish, thrusting out a hand, making a great show of pointing and scolding the offending piece of furniture. “We’ll have no more of your cheek now, Mr. Crib. You’ve met your match here with Harry Potter. He’s going to be a proper young lad soon enough, and you best get used to the fact that your days in the nursery are numbered. Numbered I tell you! We’ll be turning you into a bed without restrictive bars soon enough, and then you’ll be sorry for ever holding back to the efforts of Harry Potter—won’t it, Harry? Won’t it, won’t it, won’t it?” 

He bounced and swayed across the room, maintaining that high-pitched voice he’d always hated as he chanted nonsense over and over, until Harry had settled in his arms. He paced the length of the room for another ten minutes afterwards, humming and murmuring soft fairytale nothings—read: nonsensical hippogriff shite—until Harry was once again asleep and therefore transferrable back into his crib. 

Sirius held his breath until he’d successfully tip-toed from Harry’s room, closed the door softly behind him, and lingered long enough to determine no noise was coming from the room, signally Harry had been successfully put back to sleep. He glanced at his watch, groaning to see it was only half past nine, and Harry had only managed to sleep for an hour and a half that time before waking up. 

Maybe someday he’d sleep again; they’d both sleep again… Maybe by then—

_Ding! Ding! Ding! _

Chimes from his fireplace tinkled down the hall, and Sirius wasted no time in Apparating to the sitting room to halt the infernal noise before it succeeded in waking Harry. 

“Hello, Sirius?” 

“Hermione?” Sirius blinked twice, not fully trusting what his mind was telling his eyes he was seeing. “I… Is everything all right? Are you all right?” Because he wasn’t exactly _ friends _with Hermione Granger. Not officially. Sure, they’d been schoolmates and in the same year at Hogwarts and even had some of the same N.E.W.T. level classes their final two years, but that had never meant they’d ever been anything more than two people who were aware of each other’s existence…

Still, if he was going to marry her due to this new law cooked up by the Ministry, it’d be a good thing to be concerned about her wellbeing; thus his reason for burying his confusion with the inquiry as to her health and current circumstances. 

The face in the embers nodded. “Quite all right. It’s just… I know it’s late, and this is rotten timing, but I’ve just gotten finished at work, and I thought maybe if Harry was asleep that now would be a good time for the two of us to talk.” 

“Talk?” He couldn’t help the immediate reaction of his eyebrows shooting into his hairline, though from the etches of a grimace across her glowing features, he could tell that had been the wrong reaction. 

“Yes, _ talk _.” There was an edge to her voice now. “We’ve been politely avoiding this all week via owls, and I’ve decided to be the sensible one and accept the fact that there's no point in putting this off forever. So, may I come through now, or do you have an alternate time you’d like to suggest?”

Time. Now. For his future-Ministry-arranged wife… “Now’s fine. I’ll adjust the wards so you can come through.” 

She nodded and disappeared as he drug a hand over his face, swishing and circling his wand in the air for the witch to come through. Hermione was there a moment later, brushing soot from her body, shaking it from her curls, and for the first time he could ever remember, he stared at the witch. Really looked at her, in a way to observe and study her features. 

Because husbands were supposed to know things about their wives, things like their eye colour, the shade of their hair and whether or not they had freckles. Hermione’s brown curls hung loose and free, kissing the space just above her lower back. Her skin was pale enough so that spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks stood out, but not in an awkward way. Just enough to be noticed. And her eyes… Had there always been those arresting flecks of honey and amber in her chocolate brown irises? Or was it the yellow lamplight of the room that brought them out…? 

“Is there something on my face?” she queried, hastily swiping her sleeve across her cheeks. “I’m forever getting ink on my fingers, and consequently on my face, but I didn’t think there’d been anything when I checked the mirror a moment ago—”

“You’re perfect,” Sirius blurted, startling not only Hermione, but himself with the realization he didn’t see the need to apologise. “No embarrassing blemishes of ink or food to be found, and your complexion is so perfect my mother would be fawning over you in an instant for…” He clamped his mouth shut, mentally wincing over _ that _. “Sorry... Merlin, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” She took a step towards him, meeting his eyes and smiling in a way that said she truly understood what he meant. “Truth be told, I don’t think anyone’s particularly happy with this marriage law, but what’s done is done, and at least we’re not being forced to procreate anytime soon, yeah?” 

_ Sex _… His mind froze. Not that there was an issue with that… It’d just been a while is all, what with war going on, a godson to play with and now have custody of.. But a marriage law… He swallowed hard. “Right.” He swallowed again, motioning to this sofa. “Thank Merlin for the smallest of mercies in these times.” 

“Right,” she parrotted, smile turning nervous as she sank down into the seat, crossing her ankles and folding her hands together over her lap. “Um, so. I thought first it’d be a good idea for us to recap this new law—”

“Hardly anything worth recapping, is there?” Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes. “To ensure there’s peace in the wizarding community in the aftermath of the Dark Fucker’s demise, all single Purebloods and Muggle-born witches and wizards have been paired off, with no specific timeframe for procreation, making it the point of the law to show solidarity for all, and that none is considered superior or preferred to the other.” 

“Right.” Hermione’s head bobbed. “Not that I agree with this, but I’m a member of this community as much as anyone. This has been my life for a decade now, magic is who I am as much as being British, and I’m not about to flee and mourn for lost ground in the way of progress. That said, have you given any consideration to the ceremony you’d like for this blessed occasion?” 

A ceremony… Merlin, he was too young for this. Too young and too old for all of this, all at once. First a godson to raise and now a wedding ceremony. “Can’t say it’s really been on the forefront of my mind in light of everything, not that it had been earlier in the year either. Once I was turned out of the house and blasted off the family tree, I really hadn’t given much thought to family, traditions, and all that rubbish.” 

“All right.” There was that head bob again, though with an embarrassed sort of edge to it this time. “I don’t know how much of a secret that was all supposed to be—”

“Not much at all,” Sirius interjected, rolling his eyes. “I was glad to be rid of that oppressive house with Mother’s poisonous words and Father’s condescending glare. And she made every effort to publically separate me from their house, declaring Regulus to be the new heir and master of the house.” He paused, considering his brother, a rueful smile toying at his lips. “Guess irony is always waiting to be served when you least want it. Or expect, for that matter…” 

Warmth pressed against his arm, and he blinked down to find Hermione’s hand over his elbow. “I was sorry to hear about your brother, Sirius.” His eyes traced up her arm until they locked with hers, her very warm and highly iridescent eyes. They bored into his as she shifted and edged herself just a bit closer to him on the sofa. “From what I could see at school, you both had your differences, but he was never unkind to you, even going so far as to stand up for you sometimes.”  
  
“Yeah, well…” He sighed a heavy sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. Godric, life was exhausting. “At least my guest list will be on the small side, just Remus and Harry. You?” 

“A friend I thought I’d ask to stand with me, and Professor McGonagall if you don’t mind.” 

“Not your parents?” 

She shook her head. “They’re out of the country for the time being.” She said it so quickly, so matter-of-factly, that he knew there had to be more to the story than that, and the way he said her name in response conveyed precisely that, having the subsequent effect of Hermione’s lips forming a tight line before she spoke again. “I sort of talked them into leaving the country last year.” 

“I beg your pardon?” He’d honestly never heard of such a peculiar sentence, and that was saying something considering who his best friends were. 

“They had always talked about partnering with one of their old school mates and opening a branch dentistry practice in Australia…” Hermione tucked several curls behind her ear and cleared her throat. “I simply managed to convince them now would be the best time for that as I was out of school, just getting started in my career, and there were no grandchildren in my immediate future to tether them to here…” 

Sirius snorted, and Hermione gave a breathy chuckle. 

“I know,” she said. “It’s all a bit of dark irony, isn’t it?” 

“More and more with every passing day,” Sirius agreed, leaning back into the sofa, asking Hermione if she’d like a drink. 

“No, thank you, though,” she answered, clasping her hands again. “So, we’re both settled on the idea of a small ceremony. The Ministry sounds like the best option then, correct?” 

He nodded. “No objections there. I’m still on leave from work, so is there a day that would be better for your schedule?”

“Christmas Eve?” She looked almost apologetic but hastened to continue: “I’ll be off work, and I figured it’d be nice if we both had a reason to look forward to our anniversary next year, if only because it’s the day before Christmas…” 

Practical. Reasonable. And a date he’d never forget. “Perfect.” He smiled and was most ardently pleased to find her smiling back… 

Until said smile fell and she appeared to be chewing on the inside of her lip or tongue, eyes darting about the room, desperate to land anywhere but back on him. Cold, anxious, and insecure dread began to settle and spread throughout his veins. Was she disappointed in her only option for remaining in wizarding Britain? Had he done someone inexcusable or unforgiveable he’d forgotten about and would now need to atone for…? 

“Look,” she started, surprising him by scooting herself right up to him, close enough for him to catch a whiff of tea and lavender… Cozy and calming… “We’re about to be forced to be married; to coexist under the same roof. I think it’s only fair that you know some things about me.” 

Two blinks. “Things...” he repeated, the unspoken question hanging in the diminished space between them. 

“Yes,_ things _. For instance, my favourite class was secretly Potions, but my disdain for Slughorn was so great I could never let on and acted as though Ancient Runes was.” 

He canted his head, not entirely certain where this was going. “All right…? My favourite class was always Transfiguration…?” He wasn’t uncertain of his favourite class or anything, but this had taken an unexpected turn, and he simply wasn’t certain what he was supposed to say in response.  
  
“Noted, but you don’t have to say anything now. Or even later.” Hermione’s fingers twisted and freed themselves, only to take up a new occupation in the form of drumming over her denim clad leg. “Um. There’s the fact that I love to read. But not just love reading, like I love jumpers in the first nip of autumn’s chill after summer’s heat, but I really, _ really _ love to read.” 

She appeared almost sheepish and it was oddly endearing… Enough so that he chuckled and leaned left, into her space, arms folding casually across his chest. Her shoulders shrugged as she chuckled too. “I’ll easily get lost in books and research for an entire day and forget all about food or people,” she admitted. 

“Is that so?” The combination of her eyes, voice, and hair… along with the things she was saying, Sirius was beginning to wonder how he’d gone seven years without noticing this witch, but she seemed to have answered that question for him. 

“It’s still a problem at work,” she continued. “I’ll spend hours pouring over unnecessary details in the archives. My supervisor has to send me memos every few hours to make sure I’m staying on task and meeting necessary deadlines. For as much as I’d like to think school prepared me for the real world, I can still just as easily shut it all out and get lost in the research.” 

He laughed outright at that, and, _ oh _ , but it felt so good to just laugh at something again… “Remind me to not leave you alone with Harry if you’re ever working from home.”  
**  
**“Yeah.” Her cheeks were flushed as her head bobbed. “I.. I’m not going to lie: this will all be an adjustment for me. My friends gave me study space and left me to my own solitary methods sixth and seventh year. I’ve also lived alone ever since we left school.” She offered him a weak, lopsided smile, her lips curling sweetly. “I’m here, though. This has been ordered, and I think it’s stupid and won’t solve any problems, but I’m a witch, and it’s my right to stay and fight this from within. I’ll write the real events and stories from what I’ve dug up in the archives. I’ll likely end up rewriting the whole bloody Muggle Studies curriculum when it’s all said and done. Maybe even some of the history books.” 

“Ambitious, Miss Granger.” Sirius furrowed his brow, altering his voice to mimic the tone of the Sorting Hat. “Perhaps you were sorted too quickly into Ravenclaw?” 

She giggled, and it wasn’t one of those high-pitched breathy sounds he was used to hearing from witches. It was full and rich and something he found himself hoping to hear again and again. “Yes, well,” she started, shoving curls behind an ear again. “The Hat had quite the ordeal placing me, but Ravenclaw won out in the end. I think it’s all for the best.” 

“Probably.” Silence… Bordering on now awkward silence as Hermione cleared her throat and began looking about the room again. “Was there anything else in particular you felt necessary to share tonight?” 

“Yes. Something else.” She huffed before meeting his eyes again. “There’s no use saving this for a special occassion or being sentimental about it, since nothing about this is sentimental, so here goes: I’ve fancied you since first year.” 

The world stopped. Everything stopped. And made no sense. _ At all _. She did not just… He couldn’t possibly have heard correctly. “You’re shitting me now, aren’t you?” Diplomacy and niceties could bloody well hang right now. 

But she was shaking her head, slow and precise in her movements. “Sirius Orion Black,” she said, threading her fingers together. “I’ve fancied you since I saw you board the Hogwarts Express our first year.” 

The world had flipped on its axis. “Fuck.” He yanked a hand through his hair, backtracking as her brows pulled together. “I didn’t mean that as something against you… Just… Fuck, Hermione. We met on the train?! I’ve no memory of this, and now I’m such a fucker for not remembering something that made some lasting impression on you, an—”

“Sirius.” The world flipped again as she pressed several fingers against his lips, shaking her head, an accepting sadness marring her features. “It’s really all right. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad or guilty for anything. I was too bookish and then distant to be noticed much at school; you did nothing wrong, I swear.” 

“Yes, but…” Godric, this was insanity. “What in the name of Merlin happened that could possibly have been so memorable? All I can remember of that day is Mother scolding Reggie for blubbering at my leaving and feeling relieved when Andromeda called out to me—” 

“That’s who it was,” Hermione cut-in, embarrassment fading from her expression as an unknown puzzle piece seemingly slipped into place. 

He wished the remainder of the puzzle would magically appear for him. “Did we meet on the platform?” 

“It was just as you stepped on the train,” she said. “I was alone in my compartment and was about to step out to have a look about the carriage when you walked up the steps. Your hair was covering your ears like it is now, and my first thought was you looked taller than Tommy Wilkins from my primary class, because my mind needs to make strange connections like that.” She shrugged, and he chortled as she continued: “You looked as nervous as I felt, and I wanted to make eye contact with you so terribly just to see if a smile would make your eyes dance.” 

“The typical Ravenclaw experimenting already?”

“More or less,” she admitted before her lips folded inward into a tight line, as if she regretted all of what had just transpired…

And that simply wouldn’t do. Sirius flung an arm across the back of the sofa, angling himself and leaning inward as if it were the most natural thing in the world to almost cuddle with Hermione Granger, non-friend, now-fiance. “Well, go on, then,” he urged, grinning. “Did our eyes meet?” 

“They did. We smiled across the carriage at each other and you even offered a little wave. But I guess it was Andromeda you heard from the next carriage over, and you went left before I could ask if you wanted to join me.” 

“Bad form for younger Sirius, then; although, I can’t say I’m entirely sorry for it. I met James, Remus, Peter, and Lily all over that train ride. Fated to find my real family before I even realised it, you might say…” 

She didn’t answer right away, which he would have found unusual for her, but her gaze seemed to be floating between his eyes and lips, and he heard her breath hitch. He would have withdrawn, but she beat him to it, shifting ever so slightly in her seat. “Nothing to apologise for, Sirius,” she said at last, her voice low and sincere. “It was a chance occurrence, and I never expected that crush to deepen or to carry on for so long.” 

He was tongue-tied and speechless all over again, which was fine because Hermione had resumed her nervous babbling, apparently needing to fill any silent void with explanations. 

“I should follow up with the fact I really tried getting over you when you started getting on with Marlene McKinnon, and maybe that’s part of the reason I threw myself headfirst in all of my studies. It all became easier to ignore when vying for the spot of first in marks against Lily, I suppose.” She fussed with the hem of her sleeve, pursing her lips before finally shrugging, as if to say she had nothing more to hide. “But then I kept thinking that maybe you were hiding insecurities and burdens of your own behind the mask of charm and pranks. Then you’d go and do something spectacular for someone outside your normal friend group, and I’d just wind up admiring you all over again.” 

He thought about moving closer, thought about closing the gap between them and silencing her worried rambling with a kiss. A year ago he would have. He would have had her pinned to the back of the sofa in a breathless snog by now, hands roaming up silken skin underneath her jumper… But this witch deserved more than the quagmire of shattered and confused pieces that was his life. She’d seen something beyond the facade he’d put up… And maybe now wasn't the appropriate time for charm and moves. 

“I feel I owe the deepest of apologies somehow.” His drummed his fingers over his leg, needing any form of action to distract his primal instincts. 

“Don’t!” Her hands flew to his hand resting over his leg, cupping it and applying the barest amount of pressure. She swallowed so hard he could hear it. “I didn’t tell you this to incur any belated sense of guilt. I’ve been going back and forth about it since we were matched together, but in the end, it seemed only fair you know all the facts coming into this.” Her hold over his fingers loosened, but she did not withdraw her hands, and he didn’t pull away. 

Their eyes drifted down in unison, staring at the appendages lingering within each other’s touch without pressing for too much too soon. Not demanding to slide in the spaces between… Her thumb began to trace over his, and it was easily one of the most intimate touches he’d ever received in his short life. 

“I’m far from your usual witch, Sirius,” she breathed, floating her eyes back to his face. “And this marriage law is far from romantic or ideal, but in the end, I thought maybe you’d like to know that when you smile one of your rare real ones… I swear the stars themselves shine through your grey eyes. It’s the moon and all the constellations in an inky sky, and I’m not going to be looking for anything with another wizard outside of this arranged union.” 

“Merlin…” It was too much. He’d never deserve someone like this, not even if he lived a thousand years. “I’m… I’m not entirely sure what to say.”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She withdrew her hands, bringing them back to her lap as her shoulders squared. “I suppose I’ll move in next week just before the ceremony, and we’ll owl the attendees tomorrow for a Christmas Eve ceremony. I’ll even fill out the form to make the arrangements at the Ministry for a civil bonding ceremony there. You can… well, if you don’t mind, would you get me a list of things you’d like for Harry to have for Christmas that I can purchase? We can have a proper celebration for him the next morning.” 

His head was _ definitely _ spinning now; it was dizzying moving back into such logical territory. “All right.” He nodded like a confused nutter, his head bobbing to boot. “I can… yeah, I can do that.” He grabbed the back of his neck, rubbing hard, trying to find something of substance to add to all this. “I’m inviting Remus, so he’ll be here, too.” 

“Right. Of course.” She appeared nervous again, her mouth opening and remaining so for several beats before she said anything. “For what it’s worth,” she murmured, “I’m glad Remus believed you. Your trial was a sham, every last minute of it. I’ve no idea where Peter ran off to, but I’m truly glad that Remus was there for you. And that Professors McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Flitwick all came to your defense. Moody, too, for that matter—for as much as the man scares me, he was a solid witness.” 

“You...you were there?” His voice was watery and cracking, but he didn’t care. His own parents hadn’t bothered appearing at the trial

Hermione drew a sharp breath, that sad smile spreading across her cheeks again. “Feelings since the Hogwarts Express, remember? I never doubted your innocence for a fraction of a second.” 

He needed to kiss her. Every muscle and inclination in his body screamed for him to kiss this goddess, to worship her mind, heart, body, and soul for as long as he had breath...

But her chocolate-coloured irises were eyeing the fireplace now... “You can owl me tomorrow with three things to share with me if you’d like,” she said, biting down on her lip. “Or just wait until I move things. Or even until you feel more comfortable around me. I know I sprung all this on you.” 

“It’s fine, Hermione.” It really was, and he needed for her to not leave yet. “You heard all of Remus’ testimony, then?” It was one thing to discuss if she’d already heard everything… 

“I did, and I thought it was horribly unfair how his secret came out.” Her lips quirked, and she levelled him with a _ look _. “Honestly, I figured it out third year, and if it took you lot any longer than that, you’re more thick than I realised.”

“End of May our first year,” he admitted with a low chuckle, inching himself closer to her again, “but we couldn’t transform properly until fifth year.” 

She rewarded his sincerity with a beaming smile, cupping his cheek and tracing his cheekbone. She seemed to catch herself, but his hand flew to grasp hers before she could fully withdraw. Her breath hitched and there was a husky undertone to her voice when she spoke next. “That was brilliant magic, by the way. Bold, selfless, and really clever.” 

“Thanks.” Fuck him, but he wasn’t letting go of her hand! He took it as a solid sign of something good that she wasn’t pulling away and even let him thread his fingers between hers. “Suppose I inherited some measure of Slytherin loyalty in the end.”

“Maybe so…” Was she moving closer, or was it him? “Do you still transform with Remus?” Her words were barely above a whisper now, and he was getting lost in everything that was this moment. 

Their knees were touching now. “I’ve missed the moon the past couple of months,” he answered, hushed and low. “Harry… and things… and all…”

“Of course.” She was so bloody buggering close now… so fucking tempting. “Well, you’ll have me now. I’ll be here with Harry so you can be there for Remus. I imagine he’s been missing his pack, and—”

He could resist the pull no longer. Call it loneliness, self-preservation, or straight up selfish need, but he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her; not pushing any limits, content to just press and hold her lips with his, his free hand being a gentleman and only reaching to cup her elbow. 

“Thank you.” The kiss had ended, but he kept his head down, lingering in her space, resting his forehead to hers. “We’ll talk. We’ll talk loads and loads. And I swear this fucked up law isn’t wrecking my love life or anything of the sort. It’s… this… _ you _… Whatever you may think of me, I’m pretty shite with women, Hermione. For longterm things that is, and I was all set to make this in name only, but… I think if you’d like, we can try for… anything with this. Friends. More than friends too, if you’re up for trying.” 

Her laugh had a watery feel to it, and he worried he’d crossed a line just now. “We weren’t even just friends before all of this, Sirius.” 

“I know. It’s crazy and insane, but nothing about the last year of life has been normal for me; why start expecting it now?” He winked and permitted a smirk, and her answering laugh held a more genuine ring to it this time. 

“Very logical and sensible of you.”

He squeezed her hand before dropping his hold, not wanting to push too far. “How about you come over again tomorrow after work? You can bring some things by, or not—just come over. I’ll take Harry to get take-out; do you like Italian?” She nodded, and his head fucking bobbed, too. “We’ll have Italian, then. I’ll walk you through the house and Harry’s schedule, and he can get to know you a little bit. You can stay after he goes to bed, and we’ll talk or play some cards. Or if you’d rather read, I inherited a massive collected from my uncle, and there’s a proper homely library near the bedrooms.”

The space around her eyes crinkled as her lips curled in a smile. Something tender and delicate. Something so beautiful, it seemed too good to last. A haunting voice whispered to his heart, spreading cold fear in his veins. 

His voice croaked as he continued, “I may as well let you know one thing right now, and that’s that I’m incredibly fucked up. There’s so much that you don’t know, and I can’t possibly tell it to you all at once because you’d bolt, and I don’t really know what to do with the weight of the fact that you’ve seen something in me for ten years that you liked enough to care for me all this time, but I’m going to fail you same as I fail Harry and Remus every bloody day, s—” 

Her lips were on his, urgent and hard, and he wasted no time in running his tongue over the seam of her lips, pleading for entrance. Her mouth opened, and they were kissing at a wild, frantic, passionate pace… Until they weren’t. 

Because a whimper and a sob could be heard from down the hall, stilling their passionate exploration instantly. 

Sirius loosed a husky chuckle. “So… friends…?” 

Her answering laugh was more a watery gasp, her eyes brimming. “I think I’ve been quite clear with how fond I am of you. We’ll just… We’ll take everything one day at a time, all right?” 

“A very sensible solution, one that Remus himself would actually approve of.” 

“High praise indeed.” She wriggled from his embrace, cold and emptiness meeting him as she stepped towards the fireplace. “What time should I come tomorrow?” 

“Half five?” 

“Perfect.” She tossed a handful of Floo powder to the fireplace, announcing her destination, the beam of her smile warming his heart even after she’d vanished for the night. 

Harry made another noise, but for the first time in almost two months, he made for his godson’s room unburdened by the weight of the past. Lighter than he’d felt in a good deal of time. Perhaps he was a fool for daring to hope again. Daring to wish and believe that maybe life wasn’t over and there was more than a shitestorm of loneliness and troubles ahead. 

Perhaps it was utter recklessness to begin to view the events of the past few months in a new light, and begin to consider his life was really only just beginning after all. 

Perhaps all that was true, but then again, he was nothing if not Gryffindor through and through. And he’d never played it safe before; why start now? 

* * *

He would never deserve Hermione Granger. 

It was seven months and some days later, Harry’s second birthday, and the fact he’d gotten lucky with this shitty attempt of equalizing legislature never ceased to amaze him. But he was finally out from under its weight. 

January and February had been two months of adjustments for Sirius, Hermione, Harry, and even Remus (since he’d walked in on a less-than-fully-clothed Hermione in the kitchen a few times), heart-stopping moments of deep blushes, snog sessions that led to cold showers. March had been the month they were adjusted enough to fight. But Hermione declared the rule they were not to go to bed angry with each other, leading to further snogging sessions that meant still more cold showers. 

By April, he’d learned she wanted to try her hand at gardening, so they spent plenty of time at Remus’ cottage, starting a small plot for herbs and tomatoes. In May, they’d taken to falling asleep over the covers in his bedroom together. June she moved her things into his bedroom and there was a night table on _ her _ side of the bed that was permanently cluttered with books. 

July… _ oh, July. _

Everything had felt intensified this month. Every lingering look, every softened expression, every playtime with Harry, every spontaneous outburst of giggles, every inside joke…

Every fucking cockblocking moment built to the precise moment just before Harry’s birthday party when Hermione had come into the kitchen in her new navy dress that hugged her curves and kissed her knees and brushed her lips over his cheek, right before she told him she loved him. 

She’d said it so easily, so freely, and then gone about finishing setting the table for everyone, leaving Sirius dumbfounded and speechless in her wake. Not necessarily surprised, because they’d danced around it all month long, maybe even longer, but speechless nonetheless. 

Because _she loved him_. And he’d fallen head-over-broom in love with her…

And Harry was now sound asleep. In his own room. And Sirius’ wife—_ wife _—had kicked her heels off and was now swaying to an old Beetles record barefoot in the kitchen. 

And he had _ plans _ for how this night could end. Very definite and distinct pl— 

“Going to waste all night staring, love?” Hermione crooned, tossing a wink over her shoulder as her hips slowed and sashayed while she magicked away the now clean dishes. “Or planning on joining me anytime soon?”

“Admiring the view, pet.” His vision was getting hazy and lost in Hermione’s hypnotic rhythm, but he could bloody do this. He could seduce his wife as much as she was seducing him… “Your hips are enjoying a sensual sway tonight, and it’s most becoming.”

“Oh?” She turned around with a sweeping flourish, skirt flaring, smile broad and unapologetic. “Perhaps you’d like to demonstrate just _ how _ becoming, Mr. Black.” 

He was on her in an instant, not entirely sure how he’d managed to close the space between them so fast. 

All he remembered was growling and taking her in his arms, burying his hands in her long curls. She pulled away, only to aim her wand and cast a contraceptive charm, any lingering doubts he had about the rest of the night dissipating as her wand dropped and clattered against the floor. 

They were a fumbling and besotted mess of unpracticed adults as they backed and snogged their way to the bedroom, shedding their garments piece by piece along the way. His tie, shoes, and socks in the kitchen. Her dress and his shirt in the hallway, followed by her bra and his trousers at the threshold of the bedroom, and finally his boxers and her lacy knickers at the bed. 

Fate tried to remind Sirius he didn’t deserve Hermione as she keened, bucked, arched, moaned, and sighed as he made her come with his mouth. Fate tried to intervene and tell him he’d never be fucking worthy of such a pretty pink pussy to sink into, to thrust languidly against over and over again while his fingers curled around such delectable hips. Fate attempted to convince him it’d never last as Hermione dug her fingers into his back, gasping and repeating _ I love yous _ until they tumbled over the cliff of pleasure together…

But Hermione could read him like a book. And she had more Gryffindor in her heart than anyone realised. 

She cupped his cheeks before he could climb off her, before he could retreat to the safety of isolation, and forced his eyes to meet hers as her thumbs traced his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, Padfoot,” she said, lifting her head so that her breath tickled his lips. “I’m yours, and so is Harry, and we’ve all found each other.” 

He was lost to her lips and love again, ignoring and refuting every ounce of doubt and fear this time, determined to bask in the beauty of everything he didn’t deserve but held all the more dear. 

Because something told him that this time, _ this time, _everything would last. 


End file.
